


The Case of M. Stilinski

by wolfishimpulse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Human, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dark Derek Hale, Hypnotism, Jealous Derek Hale, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 03:11:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfishimpulse/pseuds/wolfishimpulse
Summary: "John Stilinski, a once revered and wealthy man of the rural town of Beacon Hills, seeks relief from one Derek Hale, a renowned mesmerist who specializes in experimental technique. Hale, however, has designs for Stilinski's adolescent son, Stiles. Controlled by greed, Stilinski is held in a tortured state between life and death... until death itself intervenes."orthe Case of M. Valdemar (Vincent Price) AU no one asked for.[ ! ] more tags to come with the continuation of the story [ ! ]





	The Case of M. Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dearest readers! To begin my notation, I'd like to thank each and every one of you who have stopped by this fic to give it a lookover. It truly means the world to me that you took time out of your day (or night) to give it a gander. This is my first work not only in this fandom but on this website. With that said, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story and please feel free to give me feedback in the comments below.
> 
> For those of you who may have caught on (and those of you who haven't), this work is inspired by the short story written by Edgar Allen Poe and beautifully brought to life by Vincent Price, Debra Paget, Basil Rathbone, and David Frankham in the film adaptation of the Tales of Terror. All of these actors, the producers, the directors and the author himself have done wonderfully to portray the thrills that are interspersed throughout the original work and this spinoff. 
> 
> I, in no way, take credit for the original storyline or characters of the Case of M. Valdemar short. That brilliant work is credited entirely to the king of horror himself, Edgar Allen Poe. 
> 
> I also do not own the rights to the characters presented in this fiction. The characters you are about to witness in this story are credited to their creators – the Teen Wolf television series as well as the original 1985 film of the same name.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read through these notes and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

 

In the dark of evening, a lone home upon the crest of a hill remained aware, lamp light creating a soft glow upon the land. Within the highest room, home of the upmost window, sat an aged man of salt and pepper hair and casual dress, staring unseeingly upon the stained glass carousel of a humming lamp. Through the darkness, a voice beckoned him.

"There is no pain." The voice was insistent yet soft.

"No pain..." He echoed.

"You are at peace, mind and body at peace entirely."

"Yes..."

"Then listen to the sound of my voice. Carefully... pain vanished, mind and body in a state of peace. You understand this, John?"

"I... understand..."

"Then sleep... sleep... sleep..."

His eyes grew all the heavier, the flashes of red, yellow and blue in his peripherals steadily fading. A radiating tide of warmth coursed through his veins.

"When my hand passes across your face... Waken!"

His eyelids parting as if he had woken from a most relaxing slumber, he found himself staring upon those who stood in the room, observing him with varying degrees of emotion. There was Mr. Hale, the source of his newfound comfort, watching on with his mask of unrelenting calculation. He was a suave man in his early thirties and as the nobleman regarded the other's cool countenance, he found his opinion of the mesmerist growing. He had gifted him peace after so many long years of pain.

Then there was his most devoted physician, jumping in loyally to assess his heart rate. A smile curled at the corners of his lips. He had known young Whittemore back when he was but a boy; back when times were different. He was a strapping young lad now who was quickly rising in his field. He would provide a future spouse with everything they'd need to be content...

A pool of light entered his vision, causing him to turn his head and regard the source fondly. There stood his final concern in his long life; his reason for continuing to bear on. His son, a handsome young man who had selflessly given up his dreams to care for an old man. He was endlessly grateful to the boy and expressed what he could by taking his hand in his own and lightly squeezing in reassurance, hoping to ease the look of worry etched in the young man's face.

"Are you alright?" The boy's eyebrows creased with his question.

"Perfectly, my dear."

"And the pain, it's gone?"

"Vanished!"

"What is your finding, doctor?" The voice of the illustrious man standing just behind his son addressed the man still at his side.

Stiles stood, visibly disturbed at having the man so close, and came to reside at his father's side while Mr. Whittemore spoke.

"Well, you... seem to be in good condition."

"Seem to be?" John chuckled and patted his hand. "I am! Ah, come now, admit the truth of it: Mesmerism works!" He turned to look up at Stiles, his voice growing soft. "It works."

"I've never doubted that it worked, sir, only it's advisability in certain cases." Mr. Whittemore shot Mr. Hale a look.

"It certainly seemed to be advisable in the case of Mr. Stilinski." If the man had fangs, John thought absently, they'd be bared.

"Oh, would you have me suffer untold agonies of pain," the man stood and strode the decanter in the corner, "in order to observe strict medical protocol?"

"Father!" Having followed at his side, Stiles lightly reprimanded the giddy man.

"Oh, my sweet child, forgive me – both of you, for my untimely sense of humor."

He poured two fingers of wine into four glasses.

"But this is a joyous moment. Smile! Come, let us drink to... mesmerism."

Stiles shifted closer to his father, avoiding the intensity of Mr. Hale's eyes on his person.

"The ministration of the gods." Mr. Stilinski concluded, handing a glass to his son.

"I'm sorry, I can't drink to that." Mr. Whittemore interjected, hesitantly accepting the glass Mr. Stilinski handed him.

"Then drink to the health of my... my devoted son."

"To the very good health of you both." Mr. Whittemore relented, raising his glass, joined by the rest.

"And to Mr. Hale." John added before the physician was able to take it back.

"Sir." The man in question rumbled in acknowledgment, taking a sip of the brew as the doctor next to him stiffened.

"How blessed to be free of pain..." Mr. Stilinski mused in wonder quietly, his sights elsewhere.

"For that part, sir, I'm truly happy. Please believe me." Mr. Whittemore rested his hand amicably on the man's arm before turning and walking a few paces away as he continued. "It's for the other aspect of mesmeric influence that I feel concerned."

Mr. Hale followed him closely, eyes sharp. "Which is, doctor?"

"Perilous toying with the human mind." He met his gaze, jaw set.

"But my dear Doctor Whittemore," the man's eyes flashed, "what is perilous about it? Mr. Stilinski's received nothing but advantage from its applications. And as we all know, he is dying of an incurable disease."

The look upon Stiles' face was one of hurt anger, while his father threw the hypnotist a warning glance.

"I wish you'd stop referring-"

"Stiles, Stiles..." Mr. Stilinski wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders while the boy glared into Mr. Hale's smug face. "The issue must be acknowledged."

Mr. Stilinski inhaled a deep breath as he led his son to a chair. "Within this skull, as well you know doctor, there is tissue which is dying. Even as I speak, I am physically doomed." He chuckled. "I do not say this out of bitterness or despair, however there is one favor I would ask: to escape a pitiful and painful decline to death through the auspices of Mr. Hale."

"Would you deny him this, doctor?" Mr. Hale stood directly behind young Stilinski, leveling Mr. Whittemore with dark eyes full of a challenge.

"No, sir."

"And yet, you know, he will accept nothing for this blessing... save some trifling favor on my deathbed..."

Both Mr. Whittemore and Stiles looked up at this news – the doctor in surprise, the son in barely concealed horror – as he came to stand with the physician, seeking comfort. Mr. Hale looked on silently.

"Favor?"

Mr. Stilinski turned in surprise. "I should not have even mentioned it, it's so slight." His tone portrayed a carefree attitude, but with the grave expressions on their faces, it was to no avail.

"No, please, I want to know!"

"Well, my dear, it's simply..." He frowned in thought. "You tell them, sir, you can explain it so much better than I."

Mr. Hale stepped forward, bolstered by Stiles' undivided attention. "Mr. Stilinski has consented to be mesmerized in articulo mortis, which is to say-"

"At the point of death?" Mr. Whittemore exclaimed, utterly scandalized.

"I fear it sounds more dreadful than it really is."

"What does it mean?" Stiles shoulders were tense, trying to conceal his terror. "Father, why?"

"To ascertain, sir," Mr. Hale locked his gaze on the young man, "how long the actual moment of death can be forestalled. A momentous experiment."

"Momentous? Monstrous would be more the word!" Mr. Whittemore hurried to Mr. Stilinski's side, his desperation evident. "Sir, I appeal to you – withdraw this offer! The deathbed is no place for lunatic experiments!"

"My young friend, what can it matter whether I die ten or twenty minutes beyond that point when I shall die at any rate? What could be less important?" He stepped toward the mesmerist located at the opposite side of the room. "I owe this gentleman a great deal, a great deal... I could not dream of refusing him such an insignificant request."

Stiles and Mr. Whittemore shared an unreadable look behind the man's back while the older man bowed in respect to Mr. Hale, the action being reciprocated.

"As you say sir..." Mr. Whittemore stepped forward and took his coat in arm, approaching the man. "I fear I must leave now."

"Oh? So soon... I am sorry... Good night, doctor. Thank you for attending me." After shaking his hand, he turned to his son, who was observing the encounter with a look on his face the man hadn't ever bore witness to before. "Dear, show our friend to the door, will you?"

"Yes, of course..." Stiles murmured, walking by in a flurry and leading the way out of the room, unaware of the heated gaze on his back – or rather, silently wishing to be free of it.

"A bit more wine, Mr. Hale?"

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"Jackson," he murmured once they were out of hearing range, stepping close to the doctor and gazing into his face pleadingly, "this experiment that-"

"Do everything in your power to dissuade him from it, Stiles. I've no proof that it's dangerous, no proof whatsoever, but I sense that it might be."

"What is it, Jackson?" He gnawed on his lip in thought, absentmindedly walking to the stairs. "Why is it since that man entered our life I... I can't think, I'm uncertain..." He shook his head. "He helps my father, I can't argue with that. He seems to relieve him of all pain and to see him suffer is more than I can stand, but... at the same time–"

"You distrust Hale?"

He took a moment to form the words. "Yes, I do. Still, it's true that he asks for nothing."

"Perhaps he asks for nothing because he desires everything. Including you."

"...you can't be serious."

"You haven't seen him looking at you?"

"Yes, but surely..."

"Of course, I've no right to say this really, for I too look at you." He stepped closer, eyes locked on the young man's until the lad looked away, a light blush staining his cheeks.

"Jackson, please. You know how I feel. I love my father dearly. I respect him."

"As do I."

"I know that. So let us think of nothing else but him and our respect for him."

Jackson rested a hand atop the young man's, nodding his head slowly. "Goodnight Stiles."

"Goodnight."

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"Father?"

The older man turned as if woken from deep thought, feeling the heat from the lit fireplace on his back. "Yes, son?"

Stiles bit his lip in consideration. "Won't you reconsider?"

"Regarding the experiment?"

"...I fear him."

"Fear Hale? But my dear, think of the pain he has spared me!"

Stiles stepped further into the room, rubbing at his arm uncomfortably. "If only you could see the change in him when you're under his control, father. All the fawning ceases. He no longer calls you Mr. Stilinski, it's just John! It's entirely disrespectful! He tells you what to do, what to think..."

The young man had gone to continue in his tirade, only to be halted by a hand on his shoulder. "Please... No more. Let us forget it. It is established and of no importance. What is important is you." He sat upon the couch in the room, beckoning for the young man to join him. "I wish with all my heart that following my death you will be happy and be with our good Doctor Whittemore."

"Wha-"

"No, no. Please." He held up a hand. "Let me finish. I know that there is a bond between you. All honorable, I know that too and I love you both for it. But I am going to die soon, Stiles, and it would make me very happy to know that you would not be alone. That you would find your own life and happiness." He pulled him close in a light hug. "Your happiness means more to me than anything."

He pulled away, his stern gaze meeting the young man's. It reminded Stiles very much of the father he once was before his health started to crumble away.

"But I refuse to die until that happiness has been assured."


End file.
